What NOT to Say
by Angelique Daemon
Summary: It's not a sin to not know the right thing to say, but it's better to be thunk a fool than open your mouth, and enrage a rogue... especially when Zevran's the one that has to pick up the pieces afterward.


**Author's note: **I HATED Alistair's response to the Dalish Warden after the shriek ambush on the camp. I mean seriously HATED it! It's probably the absolute WORST thing that could have been said, and I thought all things considered, the Warden would have a REAL reaction rather than just shrug and walk away. So that's where this is coming from, spoilers for the Dalish origin story, and this is still the same Dalish Warden from 'Just a Dance' and 'Playing With Fire'. (Rather than do a continuous story like I did with my Dwarven Noble, I figured I'd just do short story snapshots for the Dalish, in no particular order, though all of them happen in the same story... if that makes sense.)

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><p>Zevran knew something was wrong... above and beyond the fact that they had been ambushed in camp, that was. He cleaved the head from his last opponent, and kicked it off the dagger that had been holding it stationary before looking around to see what had triggered the new wave of uneasiness. Everyone else seemed to be alright, but when his eyes fell on their leader, he knew something was terribly amiss. First of all, she was running up to a shriek that was... wearing tattered leather armor. Even from across the camp, the Crow thought it looked Dalish. Shit...<p>

He trotted across camp, and noticed Alistair doing the same. His heart stalled when Zilfayirin called out, "Stand back everyone, I know this one!" That had been what he was afraid of... and his fears were confirmed when the creature ran, and she chased it. Oh Maker, this was going to be _bad_.

He followed, noting that the ex-templar did the same, and arrived in time to hear their leader say, "I have to try to heal you!"

"Too far," the creature grated out, "You cannot help me..." he looked down, "Always... loved you... I'm so sorry..." and then he lunged.

She braced herself and took it without drawing her weapons, "_Lethallin_, no..." she moaned trying to grab his wrists to stop him, but not attacking even when she took a swipe to the head that knocked her helmet off, "_Lethallin_!"

Alistair reached them first, and knocked the creature away with his shield. That seemed to snap her out of her trance somewhat, and she pulled her weapons. Before her fellow Warden could follow up on his shield bash, she interposed herself between them, and attacked. Every time the human tried to help, she moved to intercept, fighting the creature on her own, until it lay dead at her feet.

Once it was finished, she stood over the body, her weapons still in hand, but her arms hanging loosely at her sides. Confused, Alistair approached her, "Who... was that?" he asked, curious since she had claimed to know him.

Zevran watched a tremor move through her body, and knew that the danger had not passed. He moved closer as quietly, and stealthily as he could.

"His name was Tamlen..." she said without looking up from the corpse, her voice remarkably steady... and yet very very hollow. Alarm bells went off in the assassin's head. He had been the shade that had confronted them in the Gauntlet... Andraste's ass! The warrior was going to say something stupid!

"Tamlen? Then... he was the one who was with you when you..." a look of sympathy and even sadness settled over Alistair's handsome features, "I'm so sorry. This is what happens when the taint is left unchecked. It's... it's better for him, to have it end. It _was_ a mercy," he shook his head, at a loss for what else to say, and turned to start heading back towards the camp proper.

Sometimes, Zevran hated being right. As the ex-templar walked away, and everyone started making either smart assed comments, or suggestions about defense, he saw Zilfayirin's grip suddenly tighten on her weapons as her head snapped up. He had seen death many times in his life, and he knew in a split-second that Alistair's death was written across her tattooed features... but he also knew that that would solve nothing, and she would be even _worse_ off if she _did_ manage to kill the taller blonde. When the hell had _he_ become the group's emotional steward? Was that not the job of the job of the woman... who had just raised her weapons and was charging Alistair... _Shit_!

With only a brief prayer that no one would think he was trying to hurt their leader and attack him, the elf dropped his weapons and charged after her. He slammed into her just as she had moved into a striking pose, so she was able to keep her feet, but he quickly slid his arms under and then over hers, and clasped his hands behind her neck, the move pinning her shoulders back so she could not strike out. Thinking quickly, he ducked his head to the side, and tucked it down so she would not be able to slam her head back into his face to make him release her.

The ex-templar, who had been oblivious to his fate, turned at the sound of the elves' bodies impacting, and stared in shock, as Zilfayirin did her best to break the Crow's grip. While she had strength over him, he had leverage, and he tightened his hold to try to dissuade her from fighting. It did not work, as she thrashed and tried to either slip his grip, or just flat out hurt him enough to get him to let go. "Maker's breath..." was all Alistair managed to get out.

"_Ar tu na'lin emma mi_!" Zilfayirin screamed as she continued thrashing, refusing to release her weapons as she tried to _force_ her arms forward, "It is _not_ better, you big stupid _shemlen_! He's _dead_! My _lethallin_! _Ma emma harel, shemlen_! You speak of _mercy_ as though you _know_ what it means to suffer! You lost Duncan _once_, _len'alas lath'din_! I lost _emma lath __**twice**_!" She writhed, trying to slip Zevran's grip, and then resorted to trying to stomp on his feet or kick him, though the other elf had anticipated this, and taken a wide stance so she would not be able to reach. "Let me _**go **__seth'lin_!" she shrieked at the assassin.

"I will not, my Warden," he replied quietly, trying to calm her even as he tightened his grip, forcing her shoulders farther back, "Stop fighting, you are going to hurt yourself."

"I don't _care_!" she screamed, even as her arms went numb, and her weapons slid from nerveless fingers, "_Elvhen'alas _wouldn't understand!" she started shaking, though whether it was from strain or emotion he could not tell, "Tamlen! _Ma'arlath_, _vhenan'ara_! I never... told you..." she sagged for a moment, which caused Zevran to ease his grip... so when she suddenly lunged at her frozen fellow Warden again, she broke free...

And ran into Sten. The quiet giant had crossed the camp during the exchange without anyone noticing him, and pushed Alistair out of the way. He took the charge without swaying even slightly, and took her by the upper arms, easily holding her in place with his superior strength. "Go dig a grave," he said, looking at the stunned ex-templar, not seeming to notice at all the way Zilfayirin was kicking him and thrashing to try to free herself, crying incoherently in Elven. He turned his lavender gaze to the Crow and added, "Assassin, go find a small tree."

Zevran was confused for a brief second about the orders, but then remembered the Dalish burial custom. "Right away," he said, and quickly headed off. He cast a glance back to see Alistair scramble off to find something to dig with. Even a city boy like him was able to find a sapling in this countryside, and he managed to dig it up, using his spare dagger to loosen the dirt around it. He even managed to keep most of the roots intact!

When he returned to camp, Alistair was nowhere to be seen, and Zilfayirin was sitting on a log by the fire, staring blankly into it. Sten loomed silently near her, probably to keep away the well-meaning members of their group. Leliana's heart was in the right place, of course, but like the other Warden, she said the wrong words and Wynne... well Wynne would likely give her some meaningless platitude that would not help in the least, and then tell her to buck up like a good little soldier. He decided that it would be better to find the ex-templar and have a bit of a talk with him before trying to get near their leader.

As it turned out, the other Warden had gone rather far afield to dig the grave, which was likely a good thing. He had also taken the body with him, which showed suprising forethought on his part. This time, Alistair was aware of his surroundings, and looked up as the assassin approached. "So..." he said, turning his attention back to his digging, "You're an elf..."

"Oh, so you noticed," the Crow replied sarcastically, "Good for you."

The taller blonde shot him a frown, "I didn't know what to say, and I panicked, alright? I said the only thing that came to mind, but what exactly _do_ you say to someone after their former lover turns into a ghoul and they have to kill him?"

"Well you got the apology part right," the elf said, putting the sapling down, "but I think perhaps, 'Would you like me to dig a grave,' or 'If you need me, I'm here,' would have been the better way to end it."

Alistair ran a hand through his hair, "You're right, damn it, and I'm an idiot..." he shook his head, "But what I was going to ask you is do you know what she said? You know, when she was yelling at me."

"I'm afraid not, my friend," Zevran shrugged, slightly pleased that the other man realized his mistake without needing to have it beaten into him with a club, "I do not speak Elven."

"But you're an elf!"

The shorter blonde frowned, "Raised in an Antivan whorehouse, you'll remember. Elven was not exactly the language most often spoke."

"Oh... right..." the warrior frowned and rubbed the back of his neck, "So you've no idea, then?"

"Oh I'm _entirely_ sure she was threatening you, and insulting us both," he replied as he started cleaning his fingernails with his dagger, "You don't have to speak the language to have picked up on that."

"Yeah..." the human sighed, "I thought that was the case..." he looked over at the Crow and frowned, "Aren't you going to help me dig?"

"No."

"No? What do you mean 'no'?"

Zevran shrugged, "I mean I will not help you dig," he said simply and turned to head back towards camp, "All _I_ was told to do was fetch the sapling."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Zilfayirin was still sitting where she had been when he passed through camp. Sten glared at him when he approached, but said nothing, allowing Zevran to approach their leader and take a seat next to her... though he was careful not to sit too close. For _her_, he would respect personal space.

She did not notice him for quite some time, her gaze directed at the fire, but clearly not seeing it. After several long moment, she whispered almost too quietly for him to hear, "I'm sorry."

The pathetic sound of her voice drew his gaze, and he noticed the shimmer of tears sliding down her cheek, "What for, my Warden?" he asked gently, hoping that she was actually talking to _him_, and not to a memory.

She looked away from the fire, and away from him, "I... called you _awful_ things..." he had to lean closer to hear her now, "I shouldn't have said them..."

"Do not worry about it," he said nonchalantly, "I don't even know what any of them meant, so no harm done."

"_I_ know what they meant," she muttered, and sighed, her shoulders sagging, "Oh Creators, and I said even _worse_ to Alistair! I need to go apologize..."

He quickly reached out and caught her arm as she tried to get up, "Leave things as they lie, for the moment," he bid her, "You are upset, and it will only make him say stupid things to see you thus," he tugged lightly on her arm, and when she moved closer, he pulled her down in front of him, wrapping his arms around her, and resting his chin on her shoulder. "I will listen, if you wish to speak, my Warden," he said softly.

She nodded, and slowly at first, then in a great torrent of words she told him about Tamlen, and their friendship since childhood, and how he had always been there for her, and how much she cared for him, and how she had thought there would always be time. She finally told him in full the story of how and why she had joined the Wardens, rather than the small dribbles of information she had given him before. When she finally stopped talking, she seemed so... empty. As though the words had been the last of what was inside her, and now there was nothing. He saw Leliana and Wynne shooting concerned glances their way, but he was pretty sure that neither of them would approach with him there anymore than they had with Sten standing guard. It was nice to know that he unnerved them as much as the qunari.

Alistair returned sometime later, and cleared his throat awkwardly, "Um... I've finished... burying the.. I mean... Tamlen..."

Zilfayirin nodded, and stood, Zevran releasing her so she could. "I need... to say goodbye..." she walked away and paused when she stood before her fellow Warden. At his apologetic and somewhat wary look, she put her hands on his breastplate, and then rested her forehead against it, "Forgive me, _leth_-" she choked on the word slightly, "_allin_... I didn't mean any of it..."

The ex-templar melted, and lifted a hand to lightly stroke her hair, "I know... I didn't take any of it to heart."

She nodded and then pushed away from him, before heading off in the direction from which he had come.

Zevran, too keyed up to sleep, took a turn on watch duty. Mostly he was keeping an eye out for their leader to return, but when she did not, he figured that she might be sitting a vigil over the grave. He decided that it would be best not to disturb her, and so did not go to investigate. By the end of his watch, he was tired again, his nerves soothed, even if his heart felt strangely heavy. It had to do with the Warden, of course, but he had been feeling a great many confusing things in relation to her, so he simply decided to ignore it. He woke Leliana for her turn at watch, and then headed to his tent to get what rest he could.

He slipped into his tent, and then froze, knowing he was not alone. He was reaching for his dagger when his gaze fell on a bright spot in the darkness, and he let his hand drop. There was only one person pale enough to almost glow in the dark when she was not trying to remain unseen. "Something you need, my Warden?" he asked quietly as he walked over to his bedroll, and took a seat beside her.

He could not make out her face very well in the gloom, but he could tell from her voice that she had been crying, "Zevran... can I sleep with you tonight?" she shook her head, "I don't mean... sleep as a euphemism, I mean _actually_ sleep..." her shoulders hunched, and she looked down, "I wouldn't ask it of you normally, and I won't ask it of you again, I just... _really_ need you right now..."

"When you put it that way," he said softly, "how can I say no?" He was... not sure how he felt about having her stay the whole night with him, but he _was_ sure that he could not turn her away, so he would simply have to deal with it. He removed his armor, as she did the same, and then slipped into his blankets. For some reason, and he could not name why, he had expected it to be... uncomfortable when she settled against him. He had expected things to be awkward, and to feel wrong, but when she pressed herself against him, tucked her face into his neck, and slid her arm around his waist it felt like it always did when they lay together basking in afterglow... well, minus the afterglow, of course. It felt perfectly comfortable, and even right as he slid his arm around her as well, and following some inner prompt, started stroking her hair. She relaxed against him, her breath escaping in a small sigh that let him know she had been holding it, likely because she was afraid he would turn her away. That realization caused an uneasy, heavy feeling in his chest reminiscent of what he had felt after finding out Rinna had not betrayed him and Taliesen. Guilt? Was that what it was? What a horrible feeling! How did people like Alistair deal with it all the time?

He forced himself to push all that aside, and instead focused on the sound of Zilfayirin's breathing, listening to it even out slowly, and deepen. It was surprisingly soothing, and he was starting to drift off himself, when he heard her murmur, "_Vir samahl la numin, vir lath sa'vunin_."

"Hm?" he opened an eye and looked down at the top of her head curiously.

"Mm," she shook her head ever so slightly, "Didn' mean... any of th' names I called you," she whispered sleepily into his neck.

"I know, my Warden," he said quietly and squeezed her gently, "do not dwell on it, you didn't hurt my feelings."

"Good," she sighed softly. That reassurance seemed to have been the last thing she needed to finally fall into sleep, leaving Zevran to ponder events once more. He did not get very far into his quest to discover the secrets of his feelings, however because the quiet rhythm of her breathing lulled him into sleep before he got much father than the thought, '_This is not so bad..._'

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><p><strong>Author's note: <strong>Since all these stories are happening in the same continuum, if I were to tack them down to a timeline, I'd say this is actually the first one, followed by 'Playing With Fire,' and then 'Just a Dance'. Once more the Elven is shamelessly ripped from the Dragon Age wiki.

_Lethallin_ - clansmen/cousin

_Ar tu na'lin emma mi_ - I will see your blood on my blade

_Ma emma harel, shemlen _- You should fear me, quick child (elven name for humans)

_len'alas lath'din _- dirty child no one loves

_emma lath _- my love

_seth'lin _- thin blood

_Elvhen'alas _- dirt elves

_Ma'arlath_, _vhenan'ara _- I love you, heart's desire

_Vir samahl la numin, vir lath sa'vunin_ - we laugh and cry, we love one more day


End file.
